


Finding Home

by vMures



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Good Peter Hale, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29414946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vMures/pseuds/vMures
Summary: After the events of the Wild Hunt, both Peter and Stiles do their best to move on with their lives and heal from all the shit that Beacon Hills has dumped on them.  What happens when, years later, they run into each other again?
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 36
Kudos: 287
Collections: Steter Discord Valentine's Exchange 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bunnywest](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/gifts).



> For Bunnywest who wanted pining idiots. It’s hard to fit a good amount of pining in a short fic, but I hope that this works and fits that trope well enough. 
> 
> Canon is a mess and often makes no sense when looked at as a whole. So I kept only the bits I wanted. The main divergence is during and after the Wild Hunt. 6B doesn’t happen at all.
> 
> Some dialogue was taken directly from Radio Silence but large portions were also changed. If strict compliance with canon is your preference, you might want to skip this one.

Whoever runs this station should be fired. The furniture and signage were all out of the mid-20th century and much of it was covered in a thick layer of dust. He supposes he should be grateful the power works since it’s clear the operators don’t care a bit about the place. And whoever’s operating the trains isn’t much better since he can’t recall the last time a train came through. So lord only knows when his train will get here.

He glances at the board again. Which city is he heading to? Or was he just waiting for any train out of Beacon Hills? A small quiet part of his brain whispers that Beacon Hills never had a train station. But the thought slips away and he continues to stare at the arrivals board.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a familiar voice asking questions, and, of course, of all the people he’d run into in this god-forsaken place it had to be Stiles.

The annoying yet charming, smart, and infuriatingly loyal Stiles. A part of him deeply regrets that it was Scott he bit in the woods that night and not Stiles. Not that he was really aware of anything much at the time, but he can’t help but wonder how different things may have been if it wasn’t Scott he stumbled across first. 

Sadly that was not how things played out, and by the time he’d returned to life, everyone was, perhaps justifiably, wary of him. One little murder spree when you’re out of your mind and everyone assumes the worst. Not that he tried very hard to convince them he wasn’t the villain. He’d never been a saint and his few attempts at being helpful and showing he’d turned a new leaf were deemed manipulative by most of the pups. And well, when everyone is so determined to see you as the villain, why not give them exactly what they want. 

By this point in his ruminating, he’d crossed the floor and he wastes no time shoving Stiles up against a wall. Stiles was the only one who ever really saw him, but Stiles' loyalty was firmly with Scott. Rather misplaced loyalty in Peter’s mind, which is what made it so infuriating to him. Such a fabulous gift given to one who didn’t deserve it and took it for granted.

“It _had_ to be you.” He can feel his lip curl up in a snarl. He wouldn’t have cared if it had been any of the other puppies he’d run into. But no, it had to be the only one he liked. The only one he really cared about beyond his family. And just like his family, any chance of being liked back was practically nonexistent. 

“Peter? Peter, what are you doing here? How are you here?”

Peter stares at Stiles as he tries to figure out why he’s asking that. Hell, he’s not even sure why he bothered coming over here except that he can’t resist one last chance to interact with the young man. He swears he wasn’t always this much of a masochist. 

“What do you mean, how am I here? I'm here. You are here. We are all here. Now, get the hell away from me, Stiles.”

Of course, the young man listens about as well as he usually does.

“Peter...Peter...Peter!” Stiles ends up shouting to get his attention, “What are you doing?”

“I'm waiting for my train.” Peter looks at Stiles with a deadpan look. What does he think one does in a train station? People don’t just hang out in train stations for no reason. 

Stiles gives him an odd look, “Did you not just see a group of horsemen drop off a hogtied businessman? Whose ropes mysteriously vanished as soon as he landed?”

He had seen something...but no, it had to have been his imagination. He’s just here waiting for a train and this young man is blocking the board. Peter informs him of that. He’s startled when the handsome young man turns back to him and asks him how he got here.

“A cab, probably.” He waves his hand dismissively.

“You just took a cab from Eichen House? Pretty sure they don’t let people just call a cab from there, dude.”

And with those words, the fog that had been pressing on his mind lifts again as anger burns through him and memories of that awful place surge through him.

“I was only in Eichen House because of you and your friends.”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah, sorry about that. Not really a place I’d put even my worst enemy, but Deaton and Scott were adamant that was the best place for you. And I wasn’t real sure how to avoid sending you there without landing myself in a cell right next to you. But how’d you get out? Did they discharge you?”

Peter snorts softly, “No. Power went out and I took off. And there is no way I will be going back, so don’t even think of calling your friends to come get me.”

“Do you see a phone around here?” Stiles quirks an eyebrow at him and gestures around. 

“I’m surprised that you would be out without your cell phone.”

“Oh, I’ve got it, but it doesn’t work. And even if it did, it wouldn’t help. I’ve already been forgotten.” Stiles’ voice is bitter when he says that, and his eyes haunted. 

“Forgotten?” Peter can’t keep the curiosity out of his voice.

“Forgotten. That’s what the ghost riders do. They erase your existence. The lockdown at Eichen was three months ago, but no one thought to check if you were still there because we didn’t remember you existed. Hell, until I saw you here, I’d forgotten about you.”

Stiles kicks at an empty bench, “And now they’ve forgotten me.”

Peter stills at the mention of the ghost riders, better known to his kind as the Wild Hunt. 

“Ghost riders? We’ve been taken by the Wild Hunt?” 

Stiles looks at him in surprise, “You know what I’m talking about?”

“Of course. They’re a force of nature, usually deemed unstoppable. They’re considered the boogeyman even for other supernaturals. Legends say that those taken by the Hunt are doomed to ride the lightning with the Hunt forever.”

Peter despairs that he has apparently exchanged one prison for another, and some of that must have leached into his voice and expression because Stiles shoves him lightly and glares at him.

“You can’t tell me that you, Peter Allen Hale, have just given up. You’re not the type to just throw in the towel. You sit back and scheme and wait for the right moment, but you don’t just quit.”

He remembers thinking that Stiles was cute way back when he first met him, but in the years since that time the young man has settled into his skin and grown up quite nicely. Watching those brown eyes flare with anger and seeing that determination and fierceness aimed at him and knowing that worry _for him_ was driving some of that that just makes Peter want to reach over and pull the gorgeous young man into a fierce kiss. He’d probably get a knee to the groin for that though. Stiles certainly has no trouble maintaining his boundaries. He’s rather thankful that Stiles can’t smell arousal, or he’d likely get that knee to the groin just on principle. 

Stiles continues, gesturing widely, “And if you can’t tell, this isn’t the storm. There is no lightning. Maybe we couldn’t escape that. But surely we can escape a fucking train station. There’s got to be a way out of here. Have you talked to anyone? Maybe someone else has an idea.”

“You raise a good point, sweetheart, but this isn’t a train station. Not really. Beacon Hills doesn’t have a train station, and the Wild Hunt are fae. Wherever we are, it’s not likely that we’re in Beacon Hills.”

“So what, we just give up?” Stiles' shoulders slump ever so slightly, and Peter can’t resist reaching out and squeezing one of them.

“No, sweetheart, we sit and watch, we scheme, and we wait for our chance. You’re right that there has got to be a way out.”

The two of them work together watching as the riders drop others off, and talking to those who are still lucid enough to hold a conversation. So many have essentially become ghosts of themselves, lost in their own mind. It makes Peter shudder and he refuses to allow that to happen to himself or Stiles. 

One of the other taken is sure that he’s figured out how to escape, and tries to convince them to join him. But until Peter sees the actual consequences of the actions he’s not willing to risk himself or Stiles. If it were so easy, others would have already done it. 

His gut churns as he watches the young man, Trent, burn in the ghostly fire of the portal. His screams echoing in the station. He clenches his jaw and viscerally wills his bile down as he feels it rising in the back of his throat. Memories of burning alive tear at the edge of his mind. Stiles squeezes his hand, his own horror written across his face as they both stare transfixed at where the portal had been.

“That’s it then. We’re really trapped here.”

Peter frowns and tugs Stiles closer to him, only slightly surprised that Stiles lets him. He figures Stiles is happy to take comfort from anyone at this point. Any port in a storm and all that. 

“It would appear that way.” 

They stand quietly for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts and both choosing to ignore that they’re standing in such a way that they may as well be hugging. Eventually, Stiles shakes himself and speaks up again, voicing the same question that is rising in Peter’s mind.

“Is it getting more crowded in here? I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a few people I know…”

As the intercom once again started listing places where the train no longer stopped, the penny dropped.

“They’re erasing Beacon Hills.” His arms clutched at Stiles. “All those towns, they no longer exist. Some haunt our memories as ghost towns, but they’re all gone. Erased. Nothing more than legends.”

“Shit!” Stiles turns around and frantically looks at Peter. “We can’t let this happen. There’s got to be something we can do. Some way we can warn them!”

Stiles is looking around frantically, though Peter isn’t quite sure what for when the intercom comes on again. 

“The intercom! Maybe we could use that somehow.”

“I’m pretty sure they probably didn’t leave a ham radio or other way that we could communicate with others to warn them.” Peter’s voice is gentle as he realizes that there is one chance that they have and it’s probably not a radio. “Though if anyone can figure out how to do it, it would be you. You always have been the clever one.”

Stiles must have heard a strange note in his voice because he turns to look at him, “Peter? What’s going on? Why do you sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

Peter meets Stiles' eyes, “No one human could survive the trip back, right?” 

Stiles nods, still not quite getting what Peter is saying.

“But one of us isn’t human.” 

Stiles’ eyes go wide, “Peter, I…”

Peter smirks, “Come on, sweetheart, I’m not known for my altruism. I’m doing this to save my own skin as much as anyone else’s. The riders should be coming back through any moment, so I should get in place.”

He steps forward and reaches out to lightly tilt Stiles chin up a bit, “Now, I want you to see if you can figure out the intercom system idea, because having a backup plan certainly can’t hurt. So promise me that you will do that, okay?”

Stiles bites his bottom lip and nods, and Peter can feel the weight of Stiles’ stare as he makes his way to the point on the platform that is the best to jump from. As the riders come through he throws himself on the back of one of the horses, his claws digging into the rider in front of him. He feels it when the flames start and he howls and digs his claws in deeper. He will survive this. He will not let Stiles and his remaining family be lost. Because that is what the Hunt would do, they would erase them all, even those who weren’t in Beacon Hills at the moment. And he couldn’t let that happen. He may never have their acknowledgment or appreciation, but as long as they were all still alive there was a chance. And he refused to let that chance disappear on him. He refused to lose anyone else that he loved. He’d survive this, somehow manage to help that ragtag pack save the day, and then he’d leave Beacon Hills for good. There’s no reason to stick around to torture himself with what he can never have. Plus it wouldn’t be wise to stick around too long, McCall and Deaton would probably try to shove him back in Eichen. 

* * *

“If you’re waiting on the guy who lived there, you’re gonna be waiting a long time. Moving truck left not too long ago.”

Stiles turns to look at the older gentleman who is unlocking the apartment across the hall.

“That one seemed to live a jet-set lifestyle from what I could tell. Was rarely here, anyway. Probably moved on to someplace with a better airport for his travels.”

Stiles tries not to let his disappointment show, but nods his thanks and walks back towards the building’s elevator. He doesn’t know why he expected Peter to still be anywhere near Beacon Hills, but he had hoped the man would stick around. Even if he had no love for Stiles and the rest of the pack, his daughter was here. Though Malia and Peter didn’t really have much of a relationship. He’d still hoped that the man would stick around long enough for Stiles to thank him properly.

Stiles had been successful in figuring out how to use the intercom system to communicate with his friends, though he suspects that it worked only because he was so desperate that he practically willed it to work. Watching Peter burn yet a third time had been awful. He was determined to find a way back to Beacon Hills not just because it held his family but because he also really, really needed to know that Peter survived the trip back.

Peter plays a great villain, and the man could be a first-class asshole, but Stiles could tell that Peter really did care about his family. Scott and the others insisted that Peter was purely self-involved, but Stiles has never forgotten Peter’s speech during his fight with Kate. It wasn’t about the pain that Peter had been put through, though that was part of it. But it was about Kate murdering his family. Even back then, Stiles could understand that drive and Peter’s actions. He’d known even then that if anything like that had happened to his dad or Scott he’d happily burned the world to get those responsible. 

If it had just been Kate and the adult Argents responsible, Stiles might not have fought so hard against Peter. But he remembers the madness that had lurked in that gaze and knew that Peter was barely holding on to what sanity he had, and they couldn’t risk him continuing to terrorize the town. So he’d helped kill the man, despite the nightmares it gave him afterward. 

It had been a hell of a shock when Peter came back from the dead, and Stiles had waited for Peter to exact revenge on all of them for his death. But it hadn’t taken him long to notice that Peter’s return to life seemed to have come with a return to sanity as well. And well, if Peter had really wanted them all dead, he could have easily left Beacon Hills and tracked down an alpha to kill. He may have been weakened by his resurrection, but brute strength had never been Peter’s only skill. Stiles snorts at that thought. To him, it was clear that Peter stuck around because his only remaining family was here and he couldn’t bear to lose that last link even though it was also clear that Derek would likely never forgive him for killing Laura. 

Stiles could see that he wanted to help, to be part of the pack, but no one ever really listened to him when it came to these things. If he brought it up, he was being naive or too trusting, despite being the one that was always told they were too paranoid when he raised legitimate concerns about actual threats. At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him if he learned that Cassandra was one of his ancestors. He shakes his head at his train of thought and starts the jeep to drive back to his house.

He’d really been hoping to find Peter and not just to thank him. It would have been nice to talk to someone, anyone, who could understand what it was like to be forgotten. Though maybe Peter didn’t feel as deeply untethered as Stiles did right now. He’d first felt that way after his mom got sick and started forgetting him. He remembers wondering if maybe she was right, maybe he wasn’t her son but some demon. Wouldn’t that explain why people always found him so annoying and weird? Things had gotten better when he’d met Scotty and gained his first real friend since Heather had changed schools, but looking back he wonders if Scott just thought that hanging out with him was just better than being alone. 

His fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly it’s almost painful, the sensation just one of the ways he reminds himself that he is real, this is not a dream, he’s not possessed, and the world hasn’t forgotten him again. He’s tempted to call his dad, or even Scott or Lydia, just to reassure himself that the last is really true. But he knows he’s been awfully clingy since the defeat of the ghost riders. Sure, everyone had been apologetic and just as clingy for a bit in the immediate aftermath. But they all had their own lives, too, and he needed to let them get back to it without pestering them incessantly. Maybe they didn’t mind it right now, but eventually, they would get tired of it. That’s just the way things seemed to go for him. He’s always been just a bit too loud, too jittery, too inquisitive, just too much in general. He knows he wears people out just by being him, but he doesn’t know how to be different. 

Hell, that was one of the things he appreciated about Peter. Peter seemed to genuinely like being around Stiles and kept up with his curiosity and wit better than anyone else. Stiles hadn’t agreed with putting him in Eichen House, but he had been on pretty shaky ground with the pack himself during that time. And he’d been more than a bit terrified that they would decide to put _him_ back in Eichen. So he’d bitten his tongue and let it go hoping that he’d be able to convince Scott to release Peter at a later date. 

And with all the shit that had happened, he really can’t blame Peter for leaving as soon as the Hunt was defeated. Scott had agreed to leave Peter alone while they dealt with the Hunt, but Stiles wouldn’t have trusted that promise to last after the Hunt was defeated. For all that Scott was willing to give every other asshole who’d tried to kill them second and third chances, he’d never been very open to that when it came to Peter. 

He jumps at the knock on the driver’s side window and is startled to see that he’s made it home. His dad is looking at him, brow crinkled in concern.

“You okay, son? You’ve been sitting out here for a bit and I got a bit worried.”

Stiles runs a hand through his hair and gets out of the jeep. He’s really got to stop spacing out so much.

“Sorry about that dad. Got lost in thought, I guess.” 

He rubs at the back of his neck and looks pretty much anywhere but his dad.

“Come here, you.” 

His dad pulls him into a tight hug and Stiles breathes in the comforting scent of gun oil and his father’s aftershave. He hugs his dad back just as tightly, reminding himself that he’s home, he’s remembered, and his dad does love him. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking that maybe you should really take Rafe up on that offer.”

Stiles is not expecting that segway and pulls back to glare at his dad.

“Ah,” his dad holds up a hand to forestall any protests, “I bring this up not because I want to send you away and get rid of you. Damn it, kid, I only just got you back. If you go, I’ll fully plan on insisting you call me at least once a day, if not twice, or more even. But….”

His dad's face softens and for a second he looks so lost, “This place is killing you, Stiles. And I love you too much to just stand by and idly let that happen. Apparently, there is a branch of the FBI that is aware of the supernatural, and they’ll be coming to help make sure that all of Gerard’s last-ditch efforts to wipe this town off the map are cleaned-up properly. Evidently, he’d been bribing some of the members to ignore this entire area of California, and now they’re doing some major housekeeping to ensure that nothing like this happens again.”

Stiles honestly still can’t believe that this most recent mess was caused by Gerard fucking Argent, who should have been dead from bite rejection but had somehow managed to survive long enough to figure out the ritual to summon the Wild Hunt and set them on Beacon Hills. At least he knew the asshole was well and truly dead this time. Chris had invited them all to watch the cremation for their own peace of mind. 

His dad wraps an arm around him and leads him into the house. 

“The program Rafe is suggesting would be a good fit for you. You’re a brilliant investigator, son, and it’s more than a bit wasted here. Not that I wouldn’t want you on my team if you wanted to go to the academy after school, but I know you can do so much better. And you deserve so much better than that. Ah, let me talk for a bit, you can have your turn in a minute, okay?”

Stiles nods even if he doesn’t think staying in Beacon Hills would be a waste. He’d be here to protect his dad if he stayed.

“You deserve a chance to heal and grow and I don’t know that you will get that here. Deaton and the mage, druid, or whatever the hell he is, from Rafe’s team are certain that things will calm down now. And Rafe’s team will be stationed here for the foreseeable future just to be on the safe side. Honestly, I’m a bit surprised that Dr. Deaton didn’t realize there was a supernatural division of the FBI and call for help much earlier, but that man is hard to read on a good day.”

Stiles can’t help snorting at that. He’s been a bit suspicious of Deaton for a while, but there is no proof that he is anything other than incompetent. And well, Stiles is tired of trying to convince Scott that his heroes might not be all that heroic. 

“What I’m saying son, is that you’ve always wanted to join the FBI and this is an excellent chance for you. It’ll get you away from Beacon Hills and those who seem to forget that you’re still very human. You’d also have access to the same supernaturally aware psychologists that the FBI teams use, and I’d really love it if you took advantage of it. Rafe has assured me that I will also have access to them as will Parrish. And Parrish wants me to assure you that he will keep you up to date on my eating habits and health.”

His dad turns to him and cups his face gently, locking his eyes to Stiles, “A huge part of me doesn’t want you to ever leave Beacon Hills, but the larger part wants to see you not just live, but truly thrive. You deserve that, son, and so much more. Please take this opportunity. If you absolutely hate it, you can come home, no questions asked. But please consider it, okay?”

Stiles can’t help the tears pouring down his face as he nods his agreement. He’s not at all ashamed of it though, especially since his dad is also crying. He’d already been seriously considering Agent McCall’s offer, but he’d been afraid to leave his dad. But maybe they could figure out how to make it work. He pulls his dad into another tight hug. 

“We’ll always have each other, son, even if we aren’t in the same place. But you can bet your ass that I’ll be calling you often, and I expect the same in return.”

Stiles sniffs, wipes his face, and offers a weak grin, “You got it, daddio.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you sure you want your alpha cramping your style, little star?” Peter smiles as he looks out his office window and listens to his youngest beta’s response. She had finished up her finals, thus completing her freshman year of college, and her brother and friends wanted to take her out dancing to celebrate, thankfully there was a club that catered to a mixed ages crowd and allowed older teens as he’d refused to create a fake i.d. for her just so she could go dancing. 

“As if you wouldn’t come around and lurk to keep an eye on us, old man. We know you worry. ‘Sides, you’ve been working too much and could use a break. And don’t go fronting, you enjoy dancing and having a good time as much as us. You just hide it behind your yuppie lawyer exterior.”

Peter laughs. Trina’s not wrong, he does hide a lot behind various masks and always has. Very few have ever taken the time to look beyond them. And those few tended to be the ones who worked their way past all his walls and settled well into his heart.

“Brats, the lot of you. I swear I don’t know what I did to deserve such sass.”

Trina snorts and dissolves into laughter muttering something about karma that Peter ignores, “But I promise that I’ll leave work on time and meet you guys there. Are we doing dinner first, or should I eat on my own and meet you at the club?” 

Peter still has that soft smile on his face after he hangs up, plans for the evening established. Most days he’s not at all sure how this became his life, but he is thankful that it did. Four years ago, when Peter left Beacon Hills, it was without any real plan. He had just known he needed to be away from that place, away from the memories of all he had lost, and away from the constant reminder of what he could not have. He’d pointed his car east and started driving, merely wanting to get as far from Beacon Hills as he could without leaving the country and hoping that his light bonds to Derek and Cora would be enough to keep him stable while he worked on figuring out what to do next. 

He had eventually ended up on I-80, and hadn’t been able to relax much at all until he was through Nevada and damn near to the Utah border. By the time he hit Cheyenne, he was finally calm enough to start planning things a bit better. He finally started to reach out to some of the friends he had had before the fire. To this day he can’t tell you why he didn’t reach out to them when he came back from the dead, why he hadn’t sought to get out of Beacon Hills then. His memory had been fairly fucked after the fire and coma, so that didn’t help. But for whatever reason, he had not reached out to any of his contacts or friends until then. Unsurprisingly, his best friend and former college roommate had been the one to come through for him. 

Mattie, a witch born to a pack, had settled in the D.C. area with his husband, Marcus, who much to Peter’s amusement was an actual werebear. Werebears didn’t have alphas and betas as such and tended towards small family units rather than larger pack like structures. However, they could serve as anchors for other types of weres if they built familial bonds with them. Both kept in touch with their family groups, they had formed their own little pack of two. Jobs sometimes required supernaturals to travel or move outright and areas like D.C. often had a hub of loosely affiliated supernatural groups. They’d been happy to host Peter for a time while he sorted out his shit, though Marcus had made it clear that Peter would be seeing a therapist if he wanted to stay with them.

Peter probably would have been perfectly content to continue his existence as a tangential member of their pack, if it weren’t for the day that he had been out for a run and the whimpers of a young werewolf. Peter hadn’t been able to help but flashback to the whimpers of the young cubs he hadn’t been able to protect all those years ago and the next thing he knows he’s throwing an alpha across the clearing and away from the young beta he was beating while another beta was laying stunned at the base of a tree, clearly having been thrown into it. 

Needless to say, the alpha had not taken kindly to Peter’s interference insisting that it was his right as alpha to do as he pleased with his children and betas. Before the night was over, Peter was once again an alpha, and this time he found himself with a small set of traumatized betas, including the two siblings he had just saved. He would later learn that their dad had only been the alpha for a couple of years, but he’d been an asshole even before he inherited the alpha spark when their grandfather had passed. He just got worse when he became an alpha. Most of the non-family ‘wolves had cut ties and left to try to find other packs, and most of their aunts and uncles had long ago married into other packs. So it was just Trina and Michael, the two betas that he’d saved, and their mother Janet that were left. Peter offered to help them find a better pack to join, but they insisted they wanted to give him a chance. 

The next few years had been focused on getting re-established as an attorney, which meant not only taking the bar exam again as he had never been licensed outside of California but also jumping through the various hoops required for the character and fitness board. He’d ultimately decided to take the Virginia bar and waive into D.C. as that would give him a wider range of practice areas and make him more appealing for many firms. Between that and helping his newly acquired pack settle in and heal from their own traumas, he had definitely stayed busy. He definitely had enjoyed watching his small pack blossom. He loved how much they sassed him these days because it meant they were comfortable with him and not afraid that he would hurt them for speaking out. And if that level of sarcasm also reminded him of a certain brown-eyed young man and his pre-fire family, well, that was no one else’s business. It wasn’t the same, but it still gave him a sense of home and belonging he had once been certain he’d never have again.

He packs up his stuff and heads out a bit earlier than he usually would. He’s fairly on top of all his projects at the moment, and if anything comes up that is absolutely on fire, he can take care of it sometime later this weekend. As far as his co-workers are concerned, his pack is family--specifically, the widowed wife of a dear friend who was practically a brother and her two children. Mattie had thankfully cast a few spells that would ensure no one mundane would look too closely into the issue. There are many days that Peter regrets not getting a chance to introduce Mattie and Stiles, as the two would have gotten along famously. 

He shakes his head at his own preoccupation, four years later and he still misses the sarcastic teen. He pushes it out of his mind and turns his focus to enjoying dinner with his pack and friends. There were a few holes in his heart that he knew would always ache, but this group helped ease that ache tremendously. He’d been surprised when Mattie and Marcus had asked to join his pack about six months after he’d become an alpha again. They’d been helping him and his pack during that six months and had apparently grown attached. Mattie acted as his emissary and Marcus his second. He grins as he looks around the table at them all. Mattie is so much happier now that he’s quit being an attorney and focused on helping Marcus with his nightclub, the very club they will all be celebrating at tonight. He can just hear the jokes Stiles would make about Marcus, who is a stocky hirsute man with a well-groomed beard, being a ‘bear and running a gay club. 

“You look like you’re lost in space again, Peter,” Janet nudges him, “Work got you down?”

“It’s nothing.” Peter shakes his head, “Please tell me you aren’t going to leave me alone to supervise these hooligans tonight?”

“You bet your sweet ass I am, I’ve got a date with some ice cream and my favorite shows. You can handle this lot and their friends. I’m far too old for late nights at bars.”

“That’s bullshit if ever I’ve heard it. But I won’t begrudge you a quiet night in. Just save me some of that ice cream.” Peter winks at her, knowing she’s had a string of long shifts at the hospital she works at and really does deserve a quiet night in. 

A few hours later, Peter’s at the bar getting another drink, one ear tuned to his betas and their friends. As he scans the crowd, he spots a familiar face, and his heart stutters and he wonders if his longing has reached such levels that he is hallucinating. But no, standing towards the other end of the bar is one Stiles Stilinski, looking healthier and far more settled in his skin than he had the last time Peter had seen him. He’s currently giving another man an annoyed look and Peter focuses his hearing.

“Look, dude, I’ve already told you I’m not interested. Get lost okay?”

“Come on, you look like you could use a good time. And, baby, I can show you a good time.”

Peter can’t resist sidling up to them, “Sorry I’m late, darling, work held me up. Who’s your friend?”

The guy harassing Stiles looks at him suspiciously, while Stiles blinks in surprise but covers it quickly.

“It’s not a problem, snugglewolf, I know how your work can get.” Stiles steps in and gives Peter a brief hug but doesn’t move too far away when he steps back, “This dude was just leaving. He apparently needs to go home and review the meaning of the word ‘no.’”

Stiles glares at the guy before turning his back on him, “Now, why don’t we grab some drinks and find a table.”

“Of course, after you, sweetheart.” Peter gestures Stiles towards the bar and gives the guy his own glare, which seems to be enough to make him slink off.

“Thanks, Peter, I would have hated to get kicked out for kneeing the guy in the groin.”

“You’re more than welcome, Stiles, though I can assure you that Marcus would have applauded your actions and kicked him out rather than you.”

“Why am I not surprised you know the owner?” Stiles laughs and shakes his head. He places his order with the bartender, asking for a coke, and turns back to give Peter a once over.

“I can’t say I ever expected to see you again, but I’m glad to have run into you.”

“Stiles! There you are!” Two giggling young women melt out of the crowd, pulling another young man with them. They’re followed more sedately by one of the younger drag queens that frequently perform at the club, who grins at Peter.

“Thomas found a friend that he wants to go home with, but we reminded him he has to check in with our designated sober person before heading out. So here we are!” She offers a sloppy salute before collapsing into more giggles. “Ooo, who’s the hottie?”

Stiles chuckles, “This is Peter, an old friend. Peter, my classmates, Maggie, Andy, and Thomas. I don’t think I’ve met Thomas’ friend, yet.” Stiles waves at the drag queen.

Thomas blushes and offers “This is Terra. We’re gonna go get some food and see where things go from there.” 

“Terra Firma, at your service,” Terra winks at Stiles and offers her hand, “Peter here can vouch for me if you’re worried about your friend. I applaud you lot for having a solid safety plan for a night on the town. Wish I had done the same when I first started clubbing.”

“Yeah, it’s a hard-learned lesson sometimes,” Stiles offers with a grin after a quick glance at Peter confirmed that he could vouch for Terra, “We usually take turns as the designated safety person. You’ve got my number, man, don’t forget to check in from time to time, okay?”

The two giggly girls are poking leaning on Stiles and one has gotten bold enough to poke at Peter’s pecks while mumbling about firm muscles. 

“I should probably go ahead and get these two home, I think they’ve definitely had enough. But it is really good to see you again, Peter. Here, let me give you my number. I would love to catch up some time.”

Peter manages to get Stiles’ number put into his phone, and bid him and his friends a cheerful sounding goodbye. He then tries to let go of his disappointment over the short encounter. 

“You know, I think I may owe Janet some money,” Marcus hands him a beer, having come over to help the main bartender with the crowd, “She told me that she bet all your dates failed because you were still in love with someone else and I didn’t believe her. I’m guessing that’s the one that got away.”

“More like the one that never was.”

“Well, maybe that will change. He really was happy to see you.”

Marcus moves to fill more drink orders, but turns back and winks at his alpha, “And don’t think you’ll get out of calling him. I’ll set the kids on you about it if I have to. You deserve some happiness in your life.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Got a date with hot lawyer?” Stiles’ roommate gives him a sly look as he asks.

“How often do I have to say he’s just an old friend?” 

Stiles rolls his eyes as he finishes getting ready for the evening. He can’t deny that deep down he does wish this were a _date_ date and not just two friends having dinner and catching up.

“You keep saying that, but I’ve got eyes, man. I’ve seen the way you look at each other. Just man up and tell him already.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who stands to tank a friendship because you think your crush might be returned. I’m happy with what we’ve got and I don’t want to risk ruining that.”

And Stiles is happy with what he has right now. It had been fantastic to reconnect with Peter, and not just because it allowed him to thank the man for his role in defeating the Wild Hunt and saving him. There is something profound about having someone around who’d lived through some of the same horrible shit you had, who understood you on a level that very few others did. Sure he still kept in contact with Scott, Lydia, and the rest of the pack. But they’d all gone on to college and grown apart. Something both his dad and therapist assured him was quite normal. 

He’d made new friends in college, but there were huge parts of his life that he couldn’t really share with them. He’d actually roomed alone for the first year thanks to an accommodation request that his therapist helped with, she’d also put him in touch with a witch who taught him how to put up basic silencing wards along with some other very useful things. So at least he didn’t have to deal with having his horrible nightmares waking up everyone on his floor. 

He’d met Thomas through the FBI college internship program he was in, though Thomas was looking at a data analyst career while Stiles had his sights set on being a field agent, preferably with the BAU. But they had shared a few classes since Stiles had decided to minor in computer science as the data analysis and programming skills would come in handy. While Thomas had no idea about the supernatural, or at least had given no indication that he was in the know in the four years they’d known each other, he did understand healing from trauma and being neurodivergent as he had his own mix of ADHD and other issues. So after Thomas’s original roommate had turned out to be a giant bag of dicks who bitched at him constantly no matter what he did, they’d ended up deciding to try rooming together. They eventually ended up sharing a small place with some other students in the program. All people who were planning on continuing their schooling here in the DC, so they didn’t have to worry too much about finding new housemates unless someone moved in with a significant other. 

“I get that, man, I really do. And I know you’re certain that these aren’t romantic dates, but I think you might be missing the forest for the trees. Sure, hot lawyer has some expensive tastes, but one on one meals at some of the swankiest places in D.C. sure sounds like dates to me. Especially when you add in that the man looks at you like you hung the moon. Just saying.”

He also knows that Thomas was very happy with his new relationship with Terrance, aka Terra, and so wanted everyone to be as happy as he is. So he doesn’t hold his pushiness to say something too much against him. 

“He does have a name, you know?” Stiles rolls his eyes as he shakes his head at his friend’s antics, “And, I still think you’re seeing things through lovestruck glasses, dude. You’re head over heels and seeing love everywhere. Now, I better get going or I’m gonna be late.”

“And it wouldn’t be good to be late for your, non-date, huh?” Thomas teases.

Stiles sticks his tongue out at his friend, runs his fingers through his hair one last time, and grabs his messenger bag. 

“Have fun with Terr and don’t get into too much trouble,” He winks at Thomas, “If it’s too late after dinner and drinks, I’ll probably just crash at Peter’s.”

“Sounds good, man. Who knows, maybe that would lead to something more.”

“You know you look ridiculous when you try to wag your eyebrows, right? Like a drunk muppet.”

Stiles laughs as he dodges the pillow thrown in his direction, and heads out to meet up with Peter.

* * *

Catching his reflection in the metro window, Stiles can’t help but think about the changes in his personal style in the past few years. He still loves his graphic tees and flannels, but he’s gotten more used to wearing button-downs with skinny jeans or slacks since smart casual was the dress code for the various jobs he’d gotten through the internship program. Today he’d gone with a dark blue button-down, black vest, and black skinny jeans. He’d rolled the sleeves up for a more casual look. He had no doubt that Peter would still be in his suit from work, or at least most of it--he usually ditched the tie at the office. And Thomas wasn’t wrong about Peter’s expensive tastes. They are having dinner at a very nice Italian place tonight, one of Peter’s favorites.

Peter had texted him not long after they’d unexpectedly run into each other at Rainbow Moon, and since then met up several times. Sometimes just for a coffee or quick lunch, and on one occasion, they’d spent an entire day together judging tourists on the mall and arguing over which museum was the best. Peter had been very upfront about being an alpha again and assured Stiles that he was much less feral this time around and that he had no desire to return to Beacon Hills. It’d been clear that he expected Stiles to berate him for being power-hungry, or that Stiles would want nothing to do with him now that he was an alpha again.

But Stiles couldn’t get over how much healthier and happier Peter had looked that night at the club. He had been relaxed in a way that Stiles doesn’t recall ever seeing before. Still clearly dangerous, but settled and comfortable in a way that those worried about their power base never are. He’d always found Peter a bit fascinating, if frequently terrifying. And now he wanted to get to know this happier, healthier Peter. 

And he’s not going to lie, it’s fabulous having someone to snark at throughout the day. Someone who doesn’t seem to mind him sharing the most random observations and who, in turn, shares hilarious stories of idiots he deals with on a regular basis. They’d fallen into an easy friendship, and well, Stiles was glad he’d learned enough magic to mute his scent just enough to hide the spikes of arousal that he knows happen frequently when he’s around Peter. He can’t help that the man has such a lickable neck and very kissable lips among other things. And, of course, the man knows it and dresses in a way that shows off all his assets. 

He spots Peter waiting outside the restaurant, looking ridiculously dapper in his gray suit. The man really is unfairly attractive. He grins and waves, his long legs carrying him to Peter’s side in no time. They hug, and Peter keeps a hand on his lower back as they enter the restaurant. Stiles doesn’t mind, he knows how tactile ‘wolves are, especially with those they consider pack. And after everything they’d been through, Stiles certainly thought of Peter as pack, so it wouldn’t surprise him if Peter felt the same. 

They settle into their little corner table, Stiles telling Peter about this idiot in the forensic anthropology class he just started at GWU. 

“I’m pretty sure he must have bought his undergrad degrees because I have no idea how someone who claims to be so smart can be so damn stupid. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked me how a book worked. It’s just sad. I think our prof was ready to strangle him today when he kept going on and on despite being asked to save any further questions until office hours.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t verbally eviscerate him. I certainly don’t know that I would have shown such restraint.”

Stiles laughs, “I won’t say I wasn’t tempted but figured I should probably not show my true asshole feathers this early in the program. Plus I’ve learned a bit over the years and figured I’d get a feel for the other students as well before I took the guy down a few pegs. Rivalries might be fun in high school but are annoying in grad school. Who’s got time for that shit?”

Peter throws his head back as he laughs, and it’s completely unfair how soft and gorgeous he looks in the soft glow of the candle on their table.

“That is absolutely fair, darling. This place has a fabulous chianti, shall I order us a bottle to go with our meals? Unless you were thinking of ordering something better suited to a white wine?”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna have the veal parmigiana and the chianti would go well with that.” 

“Excellent choice. I think I might have the same now that I think about it.”

The first few times they’d gone out, Stiles had objected to Peter paying as he did have a work-study position on top of his scholarships and his internship program with the FBI was thankfully a paid one. He was fairly frugal with his money, so he could afford the occasional ritzy meal. But Peter had explained that since he was often the one who insisted on the more expensive restaurants then it just made sense that he cover the tab. He was happy to let Stiles pay for coffees and quick lunches, often from food carts when the weather was nice. He also pointed out that once Stiles was finished with school and working full time, he would be more than welcome to pick up the tab, but that it made more sense for him to keep his money in the meantime. 

Stiles figures it’s part of Peter wanting to provide for his pack. Especially since it’s not like it was always just the two of them when they met up. He’d met all five members of Peter’s new pack, and been regaled with the story of how Peter had become an alpha again in full detail. Mattie is a lot of fun and reminds Stiles of his drag queen friends back in Beacon Hills. He needs to remember to message Miz Demeanor and get the latest gossip from that crowd. She keeps him pretty up to date on the best gossip from Beacon Hills. 

And Stiles adores Mattie’s husband, Marcus, because he never minds Stiles asking him a bazillion questions about werebears and how their culture and shift differs from werewolves. Janet could come across as stern and no-nonsense but also loves to mother everyone around her. Her kids are not too much younger than Stiles and both a lot of fun. Michael is a little more serious than his sister Trina. But what Stiles loves the most was watching them interact with Peter. He has a feeling that this version of Peter is the closest he’ll ever get to seeing pre-fire Peter. He’s softer, though no less dangerous. 

Stiles loves how included he feels when he hangs out with Peter’s pack. He may not be an official member, but that doesn’t matter to him. He wasn’t sure he’d ever feel that sense of belonging he’d felt with their small pack back in Beacon Hills, especially after that sense had been badly damaged by the Nogitsune and, later, the Wild Hunt. For a while, he’d been pretty sure he’d spend the rest of his life feeling slightly untethered and disconnected from those around him. Therapy and college friendships had helped, but he still hadn’t felt fully connected since he couldn’t openly discuss the supernatural with most of them. 

He turns his attention back to the story that Peter is telling, about some new baby lawyer at the firm who thought he was god’s gift to the legal world. 

“To be honest, my little star could probably decimate him in a debate. Hmm, I may have to arrange to see that happen. It would be highly entertaining.”

“Maybe the next big firm party that includes families? I’m pretty sure we could figure out a way to set that up.”

Stiles only realized after he said something that it would be highly unlikely for him to be at such an event with them all, but before he could stumble over a retraction Peter responded by raising his glass in a toast.

“We may just have to do that, sweetheart. To an excellent plan.”

Stiles feels his face heat up and is sure the blush is visible from the tip of his ears to and down his neck. But he chuckles and raises his glass to touch it to Peter’s.

“Which reminds me that I’ve been meaning to ask if you would accompany me to this gala the firm is hosting in about a month. It’s mostly schmoozing with the rich and powerful, and promises to be dreadfully boring.”

“Really selling the event there, Peter.”

“Well, I need a partner in crime to keep me from going crazy from boredom. Surely you won’t let me suffer such a fate? I can promise that the food and drink will be top-notch at the least, and we can make a game out of observing the other attendees.”

“Spend an evening judging the rich and powerful? Sounds like fun. Text me the date and time and I’ll try to make sure I’m free.”

“Excellent. We’ll need to find a time to get you fitted for a tux as this is a black-tie event, but we should be able to get that done well before the event.”

Stiles scowls playfully, “There aren’t too many people I’d wear one of those monkey suits for. You’re lucky I like you.”

He’s almost certain the soft, almost yearning, look that flashed across Peter’s face had to be a trick of the lighting. But he couldn’t deny how fond Peter sounded when he replied, “Very lucky, indeed.”

* * *

Just a few hours later, Stiles stretches as he comes back from the bathroom. They’d decided to ditch getting drinks out and headed back to Peter’s to watch movies and enjoy a quieter evening. He notices their glasses are close to empty so figures he’ll refill them while he’s up. It isn’t until after he hands Peter his glass and curls up next to him, Peter’s hand sliding down to rest along his shoulder and back that he remembers Thomas’ words. He’s always put their physical closeness and intimacy down to Peter’s wolfiness. And the pet names were just Peter being Peter, right? Has he been misreading things?

Peter shifts slightly, tightening his hold on Stiles just slightly as his nose brushes through Stiles' hair.

“Is something wrong, sweetheart? We can pick another movie if this one isn’t to your taste.”

Peter sounds so concerned and Stiles' frequently faulty internal filter fails completely letting the question that has been building in his mind come bursting forth.

“Are we dating?”

Stiles desperately wishes he could take back those words when he feels Peter still completely, and he opens his mouth to start babbling, refusing to look at Peter in the meantime. Anything to distract Peter from what he just said would do.

“Oh god, ignore me. It’s just something Thomas said, and lack of sleep or something. I just--”

Peter reaches over to turn Stiles’ face towards him, “Well, darling, that depends on you.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles searches Peter’s face for any clue, but the man is more guarded than he’s been in some time.

“I mean that if it would make you happy that these were romantic dates, then yes, that’s what they are. If you would rather that they are just intimate outings between good friends, then that is what we will consider them.”

Stiles huffs and turns so his whole body is facing Peter, which practically ends up with him straddling Peter. But he tries not to get sidetracked by that. 

“What the fuck kind of non-answer is that?” Stiles pokes Peter in the chest as he emphasizes certain words, “Do you like me romantically or not, asshole? Have we been missing out on kisses and sexy times because I’ve been so determined not to ruin our friendship since I’d rather have you in my life as a friend than not in my life at all because things got too damn awkward between us with my unrequited feelings?”

Stiles is thankful for the ridiculous levels of expression that the Hales are all capable of as he learns that it is possible for someone to look both stunned and ridiculously happy at the same time. Peter doesn’t say anything though, just surges forward, his hands steading Stiles on his lap while his lips brush against Stiles. Stiles stills very briefly while his brain reboots and then he is kissing Peter back. His hands come up to frame Peter’s face. Peter’s tongue traces his lips and he opens his mouth to deepen the kiss, unable to stop his hips from rocking forward slightly. 

Stiles pulls back slightly to catch his breath and just rests his forehead against Peter’s. Peter’s eyes are glowing alpha red and there is just the slightest hint of fang visible. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, one hand petting Stiles’ lower back, and when he opens his eyes again he is back in control.

“As you can see, love, feelings are most definitely not unrequited. I’ve always said that I liked you, but I never really thought I could actually have you.”

Peter’s voice is filled with wonder as he says the last bit, one hand coming up to cup Stiles’ face. 

“You aren’t the only one who thought that revealing feelings might ruin what we had. Know that I will take whatever you’re willing to give me, sweetheart, but I cannot deny that I would love to have you by my side as my partner in all things.”

“Partner, huh?” Stiles' thumb strokes lightly along Peter’s cheek and he leans forward saying, “I like the sound of that,” before kissing Peter again.

Peter rumbles happily against his lips, breaking from their make-out session to offer soft praises. Though he growls playfully when Stiles gives in to his urge to lick and bite that delicious neck.

“Playing with fire there, sweetheart,” Peter’s eyes flare red again, “If you don’t want this to go beyond heavy petting tonight, then you might not want to do that again.”

“Mmmm, and if I wanted it to go further?” 

“Then I’d suggest we move this to the bedroom.”

“You just don’t want to dirty up your ridiculously expensive couch.”

“Of course not, professional cleaning services for upholstery are ridiculously expensive. Sheets I can throw in the wash.”

Peter pauses for a minute and looks a bit concerned, “You do know that there are those who will not approve of this, right?”

“Eh, my dad will come around, and, well, Scottie has his own life and his own choices to make. I may love the man like a brother, but he doesn’t get to dictate who I choose to spend my life with. He’ll either get over it or he won’t. But I refuse to deny myself a chance at happiness just because it might piss someone else off.”

Stiles can’t resist so he leans forward, licks a stipe up Peter’s neck, and whispers into his ear, “So, sexywolf, we moving this to the bedroom or what?”

Peter growls, “Brat,” before getting a firm grip on Stiles' backside and standing, carrying them both into the bedroom.

“You did tell your friends you won’t be home tonight, right?”

“Yes, dear,” Stiles’ voice is playful as he rolls his eyes. “And they know we’ll likely spend all day tomorrow together as well since we usually do when I crash over here.”

“Good,” Peter rumbles, “Then we can spend the whole day in bed. By the time we’re through everyone with a decent nose will know we belong to each other.”

“Now that’s a plan I can get behind.” Stiles grins in delight. He owes Thomas a whole lot of gifts. Turns out that he really had been missing the forest for the trees. 

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> I write for fun and relaxation. All mistakes are my own and I prefer to find them myself.


End file.
